


Welcome back

by nupoxsi



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, I Blame Tumblr, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Shameless Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/pseuds/nupoxsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bjorn has been away for too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome back

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I am sorry (although not so sorry) for this work. After the last two episodes the idea of Ragnar/Bjorn/Rollo doesn't leave my head. So instead of keeping it all to myself, I thought ' _what the hell_ ,' and decided to write this anyway.  
> It is indeed a threesome as stated above, although there is but a few of Ragnar/Rollo interaction. In a way, it's more of a Ragnar/Rollo way of welcoming (and by welcoming I do mean pleasuring) Bjorn, hence the title of the work.  
> Infinite kudos to my lovely beta [huangzitao](http://archiveofourown.org/users/huangzitao/pseuds/huangzitao), she deserves the world. I love you.
> 
> Do take this as a warning; if incest makes you in any way uncomfortable, I do not recommend you to read any of the following words.

Bjorn isn’t expecting to find the room completely empty the moment he he walks in.

At first, when his father told him to look for him once the sky had turned dark, explaining he needed to apologise for he hadn’t been able to give Bjorn a proper welcome, Bjorn guessed there was going to be a small meal, only with the ones he’s closest to. He could picture the tables filled with food and jars of ale for the lot of them to drink, Floki telling an odd story, his new little brothers insisting him to play with them until sleep took over them. Yet the room only grows colder as he ambles around, feet tapping the ground.

A part of him remains quite content with the decision he took. After being away for what feels too long, Bjorn has never been more certain of the place where he truly belongs to. He wishes Lagertha had decided to stay as well, but that’s really it, only a wish. Bjorn understands and respects her decision.

“Bjorn.”

Ragnar’s voice breaks the silence, his body emerging back from the shadows. In his left hand rested one of those silver cups they had brought from the West, almost empty by the time he puts it down. It’s a good thing to see Ragnar grinning at him, especially after feeling he’d let his father down. Ragnar’s smile grows wider as walks towards Bjorn with open arms.

“Father,” he greets him, feeling most welcomed as Ragnar pulls him into his chest and onto a tight embrace. “Thanks for inviting me here.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” As they back apart, Ragnar’s hand lingers on the back of his neck, thumb playfully brushing his cheek. “I’m glad you’ve decided to stay.”

“She is not in here, Bjorn.” His voice is cold, yet a mischievous smirk plays on his lips. “Not tonight.”

“No one is here but us,” Rollo’s voice comes from somewhere behind his back.

“Be still,” Ragnar orders, sharp eyes staring right into his own.

Without questioning his father, he stands in the middle of the room, and he isn’t entirely surprised to feel rough hands falling heavily on his shoulders with a soft thud. They squeeze his muscles lightly, and Bjorn would be lying if he says he doesn’t get goosebumps by the way the fingers press in the right place with the right amount of strength. A part of him tells him he should feel at least a little uncomfortable by Ragnar’s closeness and Rollo’s touch, but deep down he isn’t distressed nor he worries about reveling into the moment. It’s that closeness, that familiar skin-on-skin contact he’s longed for that forbids him from moving a muscle.

Carelessly, Ragnar steps even closer, never breaking the eye contact they’ve been keeping for quite a while. They’re of similar height now, Bjorn even somewhat taller than him; however, being under his piercing gaze still makes him feel like the young child that once decided to leave with his mother.

“Your uncle and I,” Ragnar starts with a small smirk, fingers brushing the side of his face that had been marked with blood earlier. Bjorn’s heart shouldn’t be pumping as fast under his touch but he cannot control it. “We have spoken of a proper way to welcome you back.”

“And we have decided there is no better way to greet you than this,” Rollo purrs into his ear, hot breath warming his cold skin, and he has to fight to keep his eyes open.

Bjorn has trouble trying to get air into his lungs.

“You are old enough now, and you have had your first fight already,” Ragnar continues, his face barely a few inches apart. It isn’t until Ragnar’s hands are trailing down his body to curl his fingers against his breeches that he notices he is half aroused already. “So, tell me, son, shall we proceed, then?”

Even finding his voice proves to be quite difficult, essentially because Rollo’s nose is slightly brushing his nape while his hands haven’t stopped kneading his stern muscles. Meanwhile, as his father awaits for an answer, his nimble fingers starting to play with the laces on his breeches, undoing them with quite a playful technique.

“Speak your mind if you don’t want this, Bjorn,” Rollo whispers, lips hovering over his earlobe. Who would have thought that hands that are used to kill in such a merciless way could treat his muscles in such a gentle way? “If you wish is to go, your father and I won’t stop you...”

Perhaps he should put an end to all of this while he still could. But then Ragnar’s sharp gaze is on him, blue irises filled with lust that seem to read every single one of his thoughts. Truly, Bjorn knows he belongs in here, he wants to explore every single bit of their bodies and let them explore his own, he wants Ragnar’s roughness and Rollo’s hunger, and, most of all, he wants to  _feel_.

“No,” Bjorn replies with firmness. “I want to stay.”

“Fair enough,” Ragnar says as he offers him a small bow, a smug grin on his face. “But before we begin, there’s something else you need to answer…”

Ragnar’s puzzling words linger in the air as he removes his own dark breeches in a haste. As a kid, Bjorn used to see him without garments an uncountable amount of times, but now that he’d grown up, staring at how he takes every and each of his clothing off for him, only makes the throb in his pants grow larger.

“…would you like to fuck me…”

The soft voice he uses changes the way Rollo’s fingers knead his muscles, but it doesn’t make him stop. Instead, he gives a couple of barely audible chuckles, his breathing warming the side of Bjorn’s neck. After undressing, Ragnar moves closer to where he stands and sluggishly leans in, lips dangerously close to Bjorn’s mouth. There’s an inner force that tempts Bjorn into crashing their lips together, but he tries to hold back as much as he can.

“….or would you like _me_  to fuck _you_?”

The question leaves him breathless for an instant.

In a rush, the mental image of Ragnar taking him makes his arousal throb and harden. Ragnar is willing to do that. For  _him_. Bjorn’s seen him naked several times before, so the picture in his head is so vivid his throat goes dry, the palms of his hands going cold and sweaty.

_But._

That’s not what Bjorn wants.

Two words.

“ _Fuck me._ ”

Ragnar giggles with a malicious glee. “Very well.”

Perhaps he should be embarrassed, but his heartbeat is increasing and he’s having trouble remembering how to breathe properly. There’s no room for shame, not now. It’s quite hard for him to keep his face calm, his lips pressed into a thin line, because innerly he wishes Ragnar would simply move forward and pin him down against the bed furs with Rollo’s help.

If he let his mind wander around, he could imagine a thousand of possibilities involving Ragnar, Rollo and a bed, but sadly, his line of thought breaks when he hears Rollo chuckling softly into his ear, his father then taking some steps backwards, until he falls comfortably onto the bed.

“Look at him, Bjorn,” Rollo whispers, warmth breath on his earlobe sending shivers all over his body. “Look at what he does for you.”

And he does. His gaze sets on Ragnar, flickering from the leer on his face to his broad shoulders covered in marks and scars, the same ones that always feel so strong and stern under Bjorn’s fingers whenever they embrace. Letting his eyes trail downwards, Bjorn’s eyes catch the glimpse of Ragnar’s cock, hard and thick in the grip of his own hand, and he swallow hard the lump forming on his throat.

Rollo chuckles again as he finally pulls Bjorn’s breeches all the way down, his cock curving up against his stomach, a very audible grunt escaping his parted lips. Bjorn is hard, and he longs for Ragnar’s touch, or Rollo’s touch, or even his own touch. He simply wants something to help him ease his ache. Chewing his bottom lip until there’s a slight metallic taste in his mouth, Bjorn realises that not only he wants it, he needs it. Effortlessly, Rollo pushes him towards the bed with swift movements, leaving his breeches somewhere along the way.

Once he climbs on the bed, knees pressed against the furry covers, he gets rid of what’s left of his clothes. At his side, Ragnar is still fisting his own cock with eagerness, mouth parted as if inviting him to join, but Bjorn is unsure as to what to do next. His eyes don’t dare look away, the image his father is providing him is something painfully beautiful to gaze upon.

Suddenly, Rollo’s warmth overtakes him, the bare skin of his uncle’s chest pressing against his naked back. He relaxes under his touch, letting his body fall back on Rollo’s muscular chest. The small grin that forms in his face is impossible to avoid when one arm loops around his waist to keep him in place whilst the palm of Rollo’s hand wraps tightly on the base of his cock. The touch is almost too gentle, and Bjorn feels the urge to buck his hips further into his fist. He has to do his best to control himself as the strokes become more stable.

“Tell me, Bjorn, have you been with a woman before?”

His cheeks burn when his father speaks. It’s hard to concentrate on the words whilst Rollo’s fist speeds up a little bit, just the necessary to have him taking long gulps of air.

“No.”

Bjorn is able to catch the brief exchange of looks between the brothers, full of mischief and amusement. Yet it seems utterly meaningless when Ragnar’s hand reaches over to join Rollo’s, their fingers twining together and tightening the grip, increasing the speed and preciseness of the movements. A part of him wants to reach for Ragnar and touch him— Bjorn wants to feel the hard muscles of his arms and the warmthness of his skin and the roughness of his lips. Another part of him urges to feel Rollo’s touch— feel Rollo’s teeth digging into his flesh and his fingers tracing the lines on his abdomen and his beard scratching him altogether.

Moving closer, Ragnar settles between his legs and harshly spreads them apart. There’s something about the way Ragnar does things, Bjorn simply cannot take his eyes off him, not even for an instant. They release their grip on his cock as soon as Ragnar is fully in place, running his fingertips on Bjorn’s naked thighs, a tingling sensation roaming his body.

“Your mouth, open it up,” his father instructs leading his index finger to rest on his bottom lip. Bjorn follows his words and allows Ragnar’s finger in his mouth. His tongue trails along the sides, swirling and sucking as Ragnar’s smile grows wider. It’s hot and sloppy, but as Rollo’s beard scratches his nape, Bjorn has the urge to moan his name and ask for more.

“Good, Bjorn,” Rollo says amusedly into his ear. “You’ve always been a good boy.”

With a small ‘pop’ Ragnar removes the finger from his mouth. His hand immediately falls between his legs to pose over his bum, the fingertip pressing against his entrance. Ragnar is flashing his ridiculous smile at him the moment he slowly nudges the finger in. Bjorn’s thankful for Rollo’s arms keeping him in place. It pains him a bit, but it might be due to the harshness in the majority Ragnar’s movements.

What is a completely surprise is the way a second finger slides in, to accompany the first one, quick and rough, curling inside of him as Ragnar drives them in and out. Bjorn’s body is only adapting to the stir when Ragnar carelessly slides a third finger around, spreading him wider with each movement. Bjorn wants to yell, half in pleasure, half in pain, but he bites his tongue hard and feels his uncle’s arms tightening around his waist. Ragnar shifts his fingers inside, and Bjorn starts to feel more pleasure than pain.

Perhaps he should wince at the sight of a fourth finger about to enter him, yet if Ragnar maintains the same pace he’s kept since he added the third digit, Bjorn is actually yearning for it. As if to improve the situation, Rollo’s teeth nip lightly at his earlobe, pulling and sucking until Bjorn’s breathing becomes uneven. Ragnar exchanges another look with Rollo and with one push, the fourth finger is in. It hurts but it works and they move just perfectly, thrusting in and out, making Bjorn push against his fingers, fast and hot, until they hit a spot that just—

“ _Ah,_ ” Bjorn hisses under his breath, fully in pleasure, throwing his head back on Rollo’s shoulder.

But as soon as he does, Ragnar withdraws his hand whilst Rollo’s arms loosen up a bit around his torso.

Bjorn’s eyes widen in surprise. Ragnar is running his fingertips on his inner thighs but all Bjorn longs for is for Ragnar to get back to what he was doing. Yet those are not his father’s intentions, nor Rollo’s, who simply keeps him in place.

“You have grown so fast,” Ragnar comments, taking his hands off him. “You are a man, Bjorn.”

His uncle’s hand trail up his sides to rest on his shoulders. “And you are ready.”

“Yes, you  _are_  ready,” Ragnar echoes approvingly.

As his father settles back on the bed, lying on his back on top of the furs, Rollo slowly lets go of him, running his hands over his back as if to encourage him to get closer. And so, Bjorn does. He moves closer to Ragnar and lets his eyes flicker over his naked body. It’s quite a tease, all his muscles covered in a thin layer of sweat that makes them glow under the orange light from the candles. Bjorn has to chew his bottom lip as his eyes once more lower on his body, at Ragnar’s hard cock curved against his stomach.

It isn’t a surprise when Ragnar grabs his wrist and tugs him even closer, blown, rave pupils staring back at him. There’s lust in his eyes, a hunger that Bjorn would gladly like to satisfy.

“Bjorn,” his father calls him out, tongue flickering over his bottom lip.

“Father?”

“ _Ride me._ ”

A shiver runs down Bjorn’s spine.

It’s that voice, that very tone Ragnar uses to give a command, not advice nor a question, a firm and strong command. Bjorn’s heart skips a few beats, but he doesn’t hesitate whether to take the order or not. It’s that power in Ragnar’s voice that both unnerves and excites him. Regaining his ability to move, Bjorn starts to settle on top of his father, kneeling up over him, legs falling on each of Ragnar’s sides and the skin-on-skin contact is almost too much to bear. Both their bodies are burning up and when their muscles press together it feels as if they could ignite the whole place only by friction. Ragnar’s hands are suddenly on his hips, fitting like they were made to hold them, maintaining a firm and taut grip on them as Bjorn starts to lower himself onto his lap.

The hot feeling of Ragnar’s erection pressing against his bare arse threatens his wishes to be as quiet as possible, but when Ragnar’s hands slide from his hips to cup his buttcheeks, he does let a mouthful of air escape from his now parted lips. Bjorn makes himself look at his father’s eyes when he’s squeezing his cheeks, fingers digging hard into his stiff muscles, and he’s able to catch the glimpse of a smirk when he easily spreads them further apart.

Unexpectedly, Rollo settles behind him again, his scratchy beard slightly brushing his bare shoulders more than welcome. The firm hands spreading his cheeks apart belong to Ragnar, but it’s Rollo the one who presses the head of Ragnar’s cock against his entrance, slick with precome and perhaps something else, but Bjorn doesn’t know and doesn’t really care. It’s hard and hot and Ragnar is leering at him with those perfect eyes that glitter maliciously. Bjorn takes that as an incentive to lower his hips even more, slowly taking Ragnar’s cock in.

“You’re allowed to touch, nephew,” Rollo breathes over his shoulders, and if Bjorn was unsure of what to do, Rollo’s words clear his foggy doubts.

Bjorn feels as if all the air has been taken from his lungs. His eyelids drop and he desperately feels the need to reach for something to hold onto, so his hands rise from the bed’s furs to set on Ragnar’s naked chest, nails digging on his skin as he lets his body sink into it. Bjorn’s breathing becomes uneven, and it’s painful; Bjorn barely holds himself together when Ragnar carefully starts to roll his hips under him, each movement burning as much as the last.

“Why don’t you touch me…” Bjorn replies in a shaky voice, “…instead?”

Rollo chuckles. “You need to be patient, young nephew.”

Regardless of how much Bjorn longs for his touch, he does not insist again. Rather than doing that, he concentrates on Ragnar’s inciting movements, and starts to fuck himself slowly at first. Eventually, Ragnar halts, his hands still like hot iron against his pale skin; scorching hot fingers that burn as they dig deeper into his skin.

The bearable pain leisurely turns into a quaint bliss as his movements grow faster and constant. Rollo’s response is to kiss the side of his neck, sending shivers over his body, to then take Bjorn’s earlobe in his mouth and nibble at it as Bjorn keeps shifting up and down. The pleasure is like nothing he’d ever experienced before, and he lets himself get immerse in the moment, throwing his head back and let it rest on Rollo’s shoulder.

For a brief moment, lost in all those new sensations, Bjorn thinks that nothing could be as pleasuring as this, but when he wraps his hand around his own hard cock, eagerly stroking the head with his thumb as Bjorn keeps bouncing on top of Ragnar, he realises he’s  _so_  mistaken. It’s more than good, it’s utterly magnificent. Each time he fucks himself back down is more pleasant than the last, and Bjorn swears he can see stars in the back of his eyelids every time he blinks to hold back a groan. Ragnar’s pupils are blown once their eyes lock together again in silent communication, but the smug smirk he carried before is still on his face, gracing him just like the blood of an enemy would do.

Bjorn has to stop from continuing rocking himself onto his father’s lap when Rollo’s hand shifts to take a good hold of his hips, keeping him in place.

“ _What?_ ” he hisses under his breath, and it comes out more harshly than he’d intended it to be.

But as a reply, all he gets is Rollo’s body pressing hard against his own, both bodies now similar in broadness, built and brawny, bodies any woman would like to be able to touch. It’s something unspoken, yet Bjorn already knows what his uncle’s intentions are as his hands travel from the front part of his body to his thighs.

“Take it easy,” Rollo advises him with a small voice as he bends Bjorn’s torso down, pressing him against Ragnar’s broad and muscular chest. “If you want me to stop, just talk to me, Bjorn.”

It starts as a tease, the head of his cock pressing against him but not pushing in, which he appreciates. Bjorn doesn’t know if he should say anything at all; he wants this, wants Rollo in him as much as he wants Ragnar, but he’s seen his cock before, thick and long, and he’s skeptical that he can take both at the same time. However, deep down, all arguments are rather meaningless, Bjorn truly wants this, he wants to feel both of them inside him, wants to ride them until they reach Valhalla.

Bjorn unwittingly shudders, and with a single thrust Rollo is pushing himself all into him as well, his cock sliding alongside Ragnar’s in one elaborated movement that stretches him wider.

“ _F-fuck,_ ” he whimpers with a small voice. “I—  _fuck._ ”

He is breathless, it’s too much for him to bear, Rollo hasn’t moved yet and Bjorn already feels he’s breaking apart. His muscles are shaking and he doesn’t think he can even move. It burns like no flame he’s ever felt, and, as his eyelids drop, he’s unsure he can even breathe properly. When Rollo’s hips start to rock against him, Bjorn grunts, burying his face on the crook of Ragnar’s neck.

“Relax.”

Ragnar’s calming voice is like candlelight in the middle of the shadows. Bjorn pens his eyes to find his father’s eyes staring back at him. But as soon as Rollo starts to buckle his hips against him with more intensity, Bjorn has to suppress the tears.

“I just—”

“Let yourself go, Bjorn.”

And he does.

At first he thinks relaxing would be completely meaningless, but the moment he does, the pain slowly starts to come at ease. Rollo’s thrusts become more constant and hard, rocking against him with more effectiveness than before. Let yourself go. When the movements speed up, the burning sensation turns into pleasure, Bjorn barely keeping himself together by the time Rollo’s cock pumps into that very spot Ragnar had reached before.

Good  _Odin_ ,  _Frigg_ ,  _Thor_ ,  _Freyr_ , _Freyja_  and  _Tyr_.

As if they were connected, Rollo and Ragnar start to simultaneously roll their hips, keeping the same pace. It’s unquestionably inevitable to contain a moan from escaping his lips, and another, and another, until Bjorn is crying out in pleasure as they keep on thrusting into him. What was pain turned into a pleasure that’s nearly hard to control. Every fiber of his body is trembling and his fingernails are digging hard on Ragnar’s skin until he’s certain there’s blood under his nails. But he doesn’t mind it, he only cares for Ragnar’s chuckles and moans and Rollo’s hisses and grunts. It’s all wild and wet and hot, but Bjorn doesn’t think he can hold himself any longer.

“I’ve missed you, Bjorn,” Ragnar says between loud grunts, his hands squeezing his arse hard. A part of Bjorn wishes his father wouldn’t be saying those words right now, he’d rather hear them while they fought side by side. Nevertheless, he can’t help but accept them kindly, his teeth digging deep on Ragnar’s collarbone. “So much, I’ve been wanting you back since the moment you departed.”

“I am sorry, father,” Bjorn forces himself to say with a shaky voice. “I know I should have stayed, my place is right here beside you.”

When Ragnar’s hand settles on the back of his neck to pull in and crash their lips together, Bjorn doesn’t pull away. There’s only hunger and lust in their kiss, but Bjorn doesn’t mind, he sucks and licks all his way in and lets his tongue tangle with Ragnar’s as the thrusts increase, turning quite frenetic and wild. Inevitably, Bjorn moans all the way into the kiss, loud cries leaving his lips whenever they need to draw back gasping for air.

“F-fuck, Bjorn,” he hears his uncle hissing,  _groaning_ , and reaches for his hand. Bjorn doesn’t need to guide him, Rollo knows what his intentions are beforehand. The warm hand wraps on his cock and starts to stroke it with eagerness, movements almost as fast as the pounds go.

In between Ragnar and Rollo’s thrusts and the hand strongly stroking his cock, Bjorn loses himself completely in the pleasure. And it’s not only him, Ragnar’s hands are roaming over his body, scraping all the flesh they’re able to, and Rollo is growling harshly as he speeds up his thrusts.

Bjorn swears he reaches Valhalla.

Nothing can feel as good as this does.

Bjorn doesn’t know who reaches their orgasm first, but he’s sucking hard onto Ragnar’s bottom lip until he’s certain he draws blood, and as Rollo and Ragnar kept on rocking their hips, Bjorn comes onto Ragnar’s stomach, crying out in pleasure. It’s perfect and better than anything else he’s experienced before. Better than ale, better than fighting, and surely better than any woman could ever be. Soon after, Rollo gives one final thrust to have them both coming inside of him, warm and hard, making him whimper as his uncle starts to ride down his orgasm.

Rollo draws back, his cock sliding out easily. “That was…”

“ _Incredible,_ ” Ragnar finishes the sentence for him.

Bjorn fully collapses on top of Ragnar, while Rollo falls softly at their side.

His muscles are still slightly shaking, but Bjorn’s pleasant smile only widens when Ragnar’s hand sets on his nape to caress his skin. It’s so familiar, an act that’s been so intimate between the two of them since as long Bjorn can remember, it turns out to be impossible not to feel overjoyed.

“Perhaps we could do this another time,” Rollo suggests.

At those words, Bjorn’s heart skips a bit. “I second that notion, uncle.”

“As long as it doesn’t mean you have to go away for four years again,” his father says, playfully pulling at one of his ears, “I also agree.”

In between soft laughs, Bjorn grins.

He has no intentions of going away anytime soon.


End file.
